Helpless Turmoil
by Jayta
Summary: News has just reached Maxie's ears about Georgie's murder. An indepth internal pov of what I think she must have gone through. The reveal scene may vary just slightly. And the outcome of the reveal is completely reworked. Stand alone


**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters. They are the property of ABC  
**POV: Maxie**  
**Title:** Helpless Turmoil  
**Summary:** News has just reached Maxie's ears about Georgie's murder. An indepth internal pov of what I think she must have gone through. The reveal scene may vary just slightly. And the outcome of the reveal is completely reworked. **Stand alone**.

"Get dressed." The way he barged, interrupting a special night for Coop and I was less than desirable. My first reaction was resentment. He knew exactly what was happening and he came in anyways demanding that I get dressed? But the irritation subsided once I saw his face. The expression spoke louder than words ever could. As he stood in front of me, I found myself unable to speak for a moment. Suddenly I felt a strong arm slide across my waist. A slight squeeze let me know he was there. Coop was always there for me.

The tall familiar figure, who represented most of my giddy teen years, became a solitary figure of tragedy. How fitting. How ironic. I had managed to become that iconic figurehead in his life. Hadn't I gecome the harbinger of death? Though it was not literal, didn't I represent the death of Lucky's life as he knew it only less than a year ago? Was it time for payback? How selfish was he?

"I'll tell you on the way." He just stood there looking at me, as if waiting for me to move.

All I could do was feel this sense of foreboding. "No. No, you'll tell me now. Is it Mac?"

"No, Mac is fine."

"Then what?"

Silence.

It was then I knew something was truly wrong. Lucky's eyes shifted, darting towards Coop before settling back on her. Then Coop said something but it did not even register. His warm arm that had only moments ago given me a sense of security was gone and an ever expanding coldness began to seep into my entire body.

"I'm sorry, Maxie."

These words caused a sense of apprehension that she hadn't had an hour ago. Her mind suddenly began to wander to simple details. _You'd think he'd be better at this. He is a cop after all. Didn't they do this more often? Why didn't he just spit it out_? "Just tell me why you're here." She forced a polite smile.

"It's Georgie."

Then came the ever predictable pause. Part of her wanted to roll her eyes when he did it. Completely a Hollywood scenario. She parted her lips to speak, her mouth felt unexpectedly dry. "Was Georgie in an accident?" Her tone was tense. She felt the muscles in her body stiffen. "Is she all right?" Her voice hitched.

This time his lips parted and it was like the words would just not come out. "No," he breathed out the distasteful words. The pity in the eyes that had only held contempt and disdain for her only a few months ago spoke volumes.

Maxie could not move.

_He is lying._ What kind of a bastard would do this, even to me? Why would anyone play out this scenario even for revenge? It was sick.

"They found her..." His voice trailed off, eyes fixed on her. It was like he was looking for signs of weakness. "Georgie was murdered."

"You're lying." She rubbed her hand along her collar before resting against her chest. It felt like someone was sitting on it. Shaking her head, her mind couldn't comprehend what was just said. Maxie had just seen Georgie. She had just talked to her. Suddenly her throat closed and she wasn't able to breathe.

He put his hands on her. There was a gentleness that had never been there when he had held her before. She didn't know why he was holding her. Glancing around, the room began to swirl. _It isn't true. This is some kind of sick joke. A prank_.

Georgie isn't dead.

&&&

The sirens wailed. It's loud, harsh shriek grated against her nerves. Instead of focusing on the loud obnoxious sound, Maxie tried to remember what she had said to her sister earlier that night. It seemed so long ago. But Lucky's hand jarred her back to the present.

Lucky had guided her to the squad car. She had protested at first, but then decided it was best to go with him. She was going to prove to them that they had made a mistake. Georgie wasn't dead. It was just someone who looked like her. Someone had made some huge mistake.

_What did you do, Georgie? Was it your turn to get some needed attention?_ The apprehension she had felt when Lucky had walked in the door welled up within her. It was almost too much to take.

When they found Georgie there would be a sense of relief; and then she was going to kill her sister. It was just like her to go galavanting off because of her new latest crush. This is another one of those times. That or she had holed herself up in some dark dusty aisle with her precious books. She was fine.

"We're here."

Maxie looked at Lucky who was hunched over the passenger side door, which he was holding open for her. She hadn't even noticed the car stopping or heard him get out. "Take me to her," she declared. "Take me to this person who's supposed to be Georgie."

&&&

There was a crowd of people as she entered the park. There was a line of vans circling the block of the park, unloading their equipment. As she walked the dark grey pathway, the usually beautiful lush green trees were looming black shadows. Maxie felt Lucky's hand upon her shoulder, guiding her through the traffic of milling cops and the forensic team. There was a small group of officers in deep conversation in the open area. At intermittent times she would see a flash behind the group of uniformed men. Out the corner of eye she saw a bright colored coat in amidst the sea of blue. It was a red peacoat. Swallowing hard, she began to walk towards the group of men who were talking over the body. She couldn't see her face. Whoever the poor stranger was, who was mistakenly taken for Georgie, she could not yet see her face. Maxie felt Lucky squeeze her shoulder, the grip he had stopping her from moving any closer. "Let me go," she whispered. "I have to prove to you that you're wrong. It's not Georgie."

"Wait, Maxie," Lucky said, his dark eyes adding a silent plea. "Mac will want to see you."

"I don't want to wait." Her voice was tinged with desperation, as she felt a sudden coolness run down her cheek. "I'm going to..."

"Maxie!" Mac's voice startled her, as two strong hands spun her around to reveal a familiar yet frantic face. "Maxie, oh god, I'm so glad you're all right." His hands pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace.

"Georgie," she whispered. Pulling away, Maxie looked her adopted father in the eyes. "They said...they said she was..."

The words would not come. She hated this. This feeling of helplessness. It reminded her of being a child and the hopeless, helpless feeling of her life being out of control. There was nothing she could do. Her parents would tell her what was happening while the chaos ensued, rather than preparing her. They thought nothing of her.

"Maxie." His eyes said it all. He was going to agree with them. He was going to continue the lies Lucky had plied her with.

&&&

_Liars. Liars! Stop. Make them stop talking._

God, I'm watching their lips move, but I can't...won't hear what they're saying. I don't want to hear what they're saying.

My heart pounds against my chest. I can't tell you what I'm feeling because I can't sort it out myself. On the surface there is some kind of invisible wall between me and them: The pretenders. Those who claim they care but in reality all they want is to use me, and then throw me to the curb.

They are walking towards me. Their wraith-like arms reaching out in an illusion of comfort; but really what they are doing is squeezing the life out of me.

"I'm sorry, Maxie."

Sorry? They're sorry? What the hell is that supposed to mean even? Those empty hollow cliched phrases just rumble past their dry chapped lips. Are those words supposed to bring comfort? ARe they supposed to ease this heaviness that is beginning to weigh upon my chest, threatening to stop up the air from my very lips?

Oh my heart. I clutch at it as it feels like a thousand sharp needles are slowly and maliciously stabbing into the one muscle I have so needlessly tried to protect. I hear the air being sucked into my lungs, as if I'm I'm treading in frozen waters trying to catch my breath, but it isn't going where it's supposed to. It's getting stuck somewhere in between.

I close my eyes. I just need them to go away. The eyes are what is going to haunt me. Pity and sorrow. They always saved those gazes for me and Georgie whenever my mother would run off on one of her 'adventures', leaving me and my sister alone. I hated those looks. I think that's why part of me chose rather to make them hate me, despise me rather than endure another year of those slow shaking heads.

They are so WRONG!

She isn't dead. Georgie is not dead. I just saw her a few hours ago. I just fought with her in what felt like a minute ago.

Lucky is lying, and for some reason Coop has bought into his crap. Why? Why are they doing this to me! Why?

Why are they trying to break me? Don't they know all of this is an act? Don't they understand that I'm clinging to a lifeline that the possibility of good dwells inside of me and Georgie is that lifeline?

What the hell do they know? The PCPD pretending to be the big shots in town when really they are just gloss and glitter meant for the sanity of the residents of Port Charles. I know. Mac is one of them. He's a good one. But as hard as he tries, sometimes he is as clueless as the night is long. I remember hearing him say over and over to himself that he would catch this bastard after the massacre at the ball. I feel myself slip out of Mac's embrace. Actually, I feel myself _pull_ away from him.

"Where is she?"

My little Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie. My little baby sister.

Out of corner of my eye I see a sheathe of some sort, the kind that you'd see in a murder mystery being pulled over a faceless figure. A death shroud really. I swallow hard. I feel my heart pounding at my chest, as if ready to explode. Here was the heart of the truth. She would prove that her sister wasn't dead. That it was some insane look-a-like that fooled even Mac.

She was not dead.

"Get away from me," I hear myself yell. "I want to see Georgie. I want my sister." There were muffled protests as I asserted my demands.

I felt hands paw at me, but nothing would stop me. They would not keep me from revealing the truth. She felt a pair of strong arms begin dragging her away. She screamed as loud and without any inhibition. They were not keeping her from revealing their lies. She spun around and glared at the man who had raised her. There were tears in his eyes and fear. But nothing touched her. He was keeping her from the truth. "Let me GO!" They seemed caught off guard, especially Mac, when I shoved him back with all of my might. She only had a second. It was a chance to show them that she wasn't stupid. It was a chance to show them how wrong they were.

Dashing up the steps of the park courtyard, I scrambled towards the shadowy form underneath the putrid pastel blue sheet. I fell, tripping up the steps. My knees scrape against the edge of one of the cold hard cement. Behind me, I could hear voices raise in fear and anger. It was because I'd show them. When I pull back the sheet, I'd show them how stupid they were for putting me through this torment. I was full of certainty.

Georgie was not dead.

Yet...My hand wavered as it gently rested upon the edge of the fabric. Her hand trembled, as if the truth hadn't yet managed to make its way down to her appendages. _She is not dead_.

"Maxie, please don't do this to yourself." She heard Mac's faint pleas behind her. She pushed them away.

I knelt in front of the covered body of someone who was supposed to be my sister. Fear suddenly rushed over me. It overwhelmed me in a way that I never thought I could be manipulated by. _This isn't her. This can't be her_. My hand spasmed as I tried to grip the thin fabric. Gritting her teeth, she forced her hand to steady. The commotion around her faded as she felt her arm begin to contract, pulling the sterile sheet towards her. Images of her sister's goofy smile flashed in front of her eyes. It caused the corner of her lips to twitch. "We'll laugh at them when all of this is over," she whispered to an invisible Georgie, as if her sister could hear her.

Finally the shroud was folded back. Maxie felt her jaw begin throb, not realizing how tightly she was clenching her teeth. If she had taken the time to look, she probably would have noticed how white her knuckles were as well. _Georgie_? Her name kept ringing in her ears. The weight that had been slowly bearing down on her suddenly dropped and it felt like her lungs had collapsed. Her surroundings began to blur, all except that pale, ashen face. Those dark shapely brows and beautiful long lashes highlighted against her usually pale but rosy complexion. The lips that usually had a smile or a wry grin hiding underneath the stern disappointed glare of her dark eyes. All of those wonderful things about the little baby girl she had grown up with, played with, fought with and laughed with, were lying in front of her. Silenced.

"Georgie?" She did not even realize she was speaking. Everything was in a haze, as if she were standing outside of herself. "Georgie, no."

I watched my hands touch her forehead, brushing the gentle, soft curls that framed her face out of the way. My lips kept opening and shutting, but no words or sounds would come out. Finally when everything seemed like too much to bear, reality suddenly snapped back in. I could hear a soft, calm voice through the air of shrieking chaos. This penetrating scream, loud and full of pain and fear filled my ears. It must have been Georgie's voice. The screams that the Text Message Killer stifled so maliciously, with such disdain for her life.

_No! Not Georgie. Not Georgie_. Oh god, why is this happening? Why do I feel this way? All I could hear was the sounds of her screams. She was fighting, trying to beg for help. All she could hear was, 'No! No!', pounding in her head.

"Maxie! Maxie!"

She felt two arms grab her from behind. She fought, just as Georgie must have fought when that maniac wrapped that cord around her bruised red and purple neck. Maxie would not stop fighting. Just like her little sister.

"Maxie! Stop!" Mac's voice penetrated the screams. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His arms were big and strong. _I guess that was what came from the mandatory physical workouts Mac was forced to go through every year_. They enfolded her and she felt his body hug her and begin rocking her back and forth. This seemed to calm the screams and the rage in her head, though they still lingered.

"Oh Maxie, I'm so sorry you saw her like this," he whispers, tears choking his words of apology. "I didn't...I didn't want you to see her like this."

I blinked several times, still the world running around as if in some different reality - a different dimension. It was like I was looking in as the cops taped up the area around my sister's body, whose face was peeking out from under the pale blue shroud as if playing hide and seek. It was only in the last couple of moments, the unconscious retraction of her eyelids opening darkness to light that she could hear the screams again, except they had subsided now left only to mutes cries and tears. "Georgie." The cries had stopped in lieu of a spoken name. "Not Georgie."

Her body slumped over the body of her dead sister, her head buried in the cradle of her sister's neck. It was only then that I realized whose cries filled my mind, soul and body...They were mine.

My sister was dead. And there was nothing I could do about it.


End file.
